


Fire Emblem: Empty Dusk

by AbsolutelyRV



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-19 05:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolutelyRV/pseuds/AbsolutelyRV
Summary: He was just a beorc. Strong and powerful, but a mere mortal at the end. A commander, a brother, but not a hero to his eyes. Ike was just fulfilling his duty as he fought for his friends, family and fellow beorc and laguz. However, just how bitter is the price of peace?





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, readers! It's my first time officially writing and posting on the Internet. This will be the first chapter of a full-length story I'm planning, and I'm posting this chapter so you all can judge my writing style and identify my errors. Please, feel free to comment and criticize my work.

The azure of the day was being overtaken by dusk’s warm shades of pink and orange, only with blurry clouds present to make contrast. He could feel the wind’s fresh touch, with occasional maroon leafs swirling towards him.  


He wasn’t alone. Behind him, his family followed, horseback and by foot, as they longed to see the stronghold. To his silent delight, everyone survived both wars, a true miracle to his sister. And yet, not everyone returned.  


The path was so familiar, even after months of being away. He could recall some of turns and the occasional big rocks at the sides of the way, and, even with the oranges and reds, Ike remembered the place. A clearing among the sea of trees, his sister picking up flowers, and him and his father sparring nearby.  


A bitter feeling arose when his father’s memories poured on his mind. I avenged him, he can rest in peace, he reminded himself. And soon, they could rest as well.  


The last time Ike remembered seeing the walls of his home was when they departed for Bastian’s request to aid Elincia against the rebellion and, ultimately, save Lucia in the last second. He had to thank Shinon for his unparalleled marksmanship. Until Rolf, at least. Ike made sure to not mention that.  


Ike knew they reached their destination when he saw the bricks almost covered in vines and cracks.  


He sighed at the sight of their barracks inside the walls. Just like the last time, the forest took over and snatched their home. Dirt, leaves and dampness. Soren deduced bandits looted everything they could find, too.  


Nothing a cleaning session couldn’t solve, he would half-jokingly say to himself.  


As he walked through the corridors, Ike could see movements in the floor. They were small shadows creeping among the darkness, which squeaked before fleeing towards the darkness. Rats, he scowled. He’d tell Soren to add poison to the list of things for the next supply trip.  


As he passed by the door frames, his eyes glanced inside the rooms. Though now empty and filled with dust, in the next days he was sure they would be in order and their life would go back to normal. That is, helping those in need. In exchange of money, he almost rolled his eyes as he almost heard Soren clarifying in his mind, yet the ghost of a smirk appeared on his face. His tactician was truly amusing sometimes, and he wouldn’t exchange that bluntness for anything in the world.  


Then, he stumbled with the room of the brothers. However, he knew only the younger siblings would stay, as Oscar was now with Crimea’s knights, very possibly getting challenged by Kieran at sparring, riding and even sleeping. Queen Elincia’s offer was far too generous to deny it. He couldn’t blame him for accepting. Ike only hoped he could visit them. He knew Rolf and especially Boyd hoped it, too.  


And Mia said goodbye, too. The memory of the morning before they started their journey back home was still fresh. Ike couldn’t deny he closed his eyes back then for a second too many, as her wish to test and prove herself was admirable, and in the end he had to let her go. She joined the company willingly, and willingly she left.  


The hug she gave to Rhys almost crushed him, but what hurt was the fact of not seeing his friend, to treat her wounds daily and ensure she was all right.  


As their commander and friend, Ike knew they could defend themselves. They wouldn’t die, not easily in the least, but not having them by his side made his chest ache.  


Soldiers, warriors and commoners from all walks of live across –their own whole world– united, despite their differences. And yet they all had to part ways sooner or later. As much as Ike would have liked the paladin and the swordmaster to stay, his conscience would never let him forget he’d be restraining them. It’d be pure selfishness.  


“Brother, are you all right?” When the voice of a young woman called for him, he noticed he has been staring at the gray wall, lost in his thoughts. Behind him he saw Mist, with confusion written on her eyes.  


He blinked a couple of times before words left his mouth. “Sorry, I got distracted there. Did you want something?”  


In the dark, he saw his sister standing behind him. She lived through the war with him, always by his side, fighting by his side. It must have been so painful for a little girl to be part of two wars.  


Many were times he wished she could live away from their business, and many were the instances he told her to  


But she was his Greil’s daughter, with the same blood in her veins. And Ike taught Mist the art of the sword, just like their father did with him.  


He made sure it was equally as painful, too.  


It was for their own good, they both came to understand with due time. Now she whined less.  


“Ike, you’re scaring me. You usually leave all the thinking to Soren.” His eyes couldn’t see it, but he could hear Mist’s mischievous smile.  


He exhaled, too tired for a proper laugh, and his sister spoke again before he could think. “We all will miss them too, Ike.”  


'Even Shinon?' The commander would like to think that he’d do, but knowing how bitter the man was…  


He leaned onto the wall without noticing, while his eyes were fixed on the young girl. “I know, they promised they’d visit in occasions.” His stare was focused behind him. “It’s just it won’t be the same without Oscar’s cooking or Mia’s challenges.”  


“Aww, don’t worry!” She beamed a big grin, as she placed her hands on her hips. “I’ll take care of our meals.” In the shadow of the night, she was shining with pride.  


He crossed his arms and with a feign frown he said. “Mist, we aren’t in war anymore, there’s no need to kill someone.”  


Ike knew he had it coming, when his sister glared and punched him right on his exposed arm.  


It actually hurt, in fact. Which was good, it meant her training wasn’t fruitless.  


Father would be pleased to see his little girl fending off foes in middle of war and hitting her brother. Ike knew he was pleased himself.  


Mist turned her back to her brother, mimicking his brother’s posture in the process. “As if you were better, mister there’s-salad-in-my-meat.”  


“I manage this company, not the kitchen.” It was his time to smile. “Your food is pretty good, you have been improving with Oscar’s help.”  


“I know” It was always good to hear her giggles.  


“You sure you don’t want Mia’s place as my sparring partner, though?” The smile became a smirk as he looked expectantly at his sister.  


“Ike, we aren’t in war anymore, there’s no need to kill someone.”  


He should have seen it coming. Admittedly, he snorted.  


Both siblings heard as soft steps approached them from behind Mist. They could recognize the figure, being slightly short and with long hair. They knew it was the tactician when they heard him talk. “Ike, we need to discuss our finances and supplies.”  


'Serious and to the point, like always.' Soren cared about his comrades, they knew. That didn’t stop him from his gelid approach to people.  


He simply nodded at his friend, and before he could follow Soren, Ike returned to his sister. “I take that’s a no for training?”  


She laughed, but shook her head. “I don’t think I have an option if I’m to be a mercenary.” Her brother and commander smiled, and acknowledged her answer.  


Soren promptly walked off once he knew Ike would follow, with direction to another, less dirty room to talk about the business. Money, food, weapons and reparations were to be attended with priority, Ike understood. It could be boring but necessary, and, with all honesty, he’d chose it over any title of lord or hero.  


It was finally time to return to being Ike, the mercenary.


	2. Daily routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This time, I tried to write taking in consideration the advice I got. I will eventually edit the first chapter to fix its errors once I'm advanced in the fic (around the ten chapters, maybe). Please, be my guest and point any grammatical error you see, so I can learn and evade them in a future. Comments and critics are always appreciated!

She could hardly hear the birds beginning to chirp on the oaks and birches surrounding her, their songs being muffled by her own grunting and breathing, as the sweat on her fair skin started to gleam with the sun.

Where there was nothing but air, she imagined a soldier, an enemy that wanted her blood. She readied a battle stance once again, with her shield in one hand and a polearm in the other. 

She’d block, deflect and strike, those were the actions branded in her memory. Before initiating her assault, she prepared herself to be brave enough, to take another life, existent or not. 

Still, it was difficult to focus with tone was being observed. 

“You going to stare at me all day?” 

“Good morning to you, Nastya.” 

Sitting on a lonely stump behind her, another young lady softly grinned while she watched. 

Nastya turned to face her. “You know, Mara, you could’ve said something instead of being there like a dummy.” 

“I didn’t wish to interrupt, or get impaled for that matter.” 

“I’d never-” Arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere, so she chose to ignore her comment. “You needed something?” 

“I wanted us to have breakfast together.” 

“Sorry, ate already.” 

Mara’s eyes narrowed when she huffed. “Anastasia, a piece of bread is not a meal.” 

“I’m fine.” She felt as if her belly cursed her entire bloodline. Nonetheless, dawn was the only truly free time she had in all day, and she was going to use in most efficient way possible. 

“Come on now, I’ll gather the eggs for you this time.” She insisted. 

Nastya wondered if someone has had a change of heart as sudden as her. 

“All right,” her words came out too fast for her liking, “just give a couple more of minutes.” 

Stroking her dreads, Mara giggled. “How is that you can spend all day flailing that lance yet tending a coop is too much work?” 

“Those little monsters could make the Mad King shudder!” ‘If he wasn’t, like, already dead’, she redundantly clarified to herself. 

“…The chickens.” She was almost hearing Mara cackling in her mind behind that wicked smirk. 

“What would you know? Just forget it.” 

Decided to end the discussion, Nastya turned her around to face her invisible rival once more. 

But she couldn’t fix her mind on him, or see without tearing up due to the stingy pain from the sweat’s salt. Her body felt heavy and tired with the scorching touch from the sunlight. ‘Cursed ball of fire.’ 

“Is wearing full armor really necessary?” Her companion broke the silence this time. 

“I must learn to fight with armor, even if it’s raining, hailing, snowing and shining.” Though its size was made for a man, she managed to wear it. She had to, it was the only proper armor in all their town. 

“It’s not that heavy, anyway.” 

“If you say so.” 

\--------------------

She will never not scowl at those birds’ messes. 

Her main job was relatively simple: taking care of the chickens, and, if she had to be honest, it wasn’t that bad.

Were it not for the little beasts that had her cornered inside the coop. 

Those birds harassed her if they ever saw half an opportunity. She couldn’t retaliate at all, and it felt like the little bastards knew it. 

As if she was in a battlefield, Nastya held a broom like her own iron lance, as her assailants puffed their feathers up. She could protect herself, at least. 

“Anastasia, don’t tell me you’re fighting the chickens now.” It was Mara, peeking from the coop’s door. 

“They are fighting me. And these are roosters.” 

There was nothing she’d like more that using those devils like javelin targets, but Nastya was far too grateful to their owner, that old man. Housing and food will never be frowned upon. 

Mara stepped in to chase them off, which was proved unnecessary, as they fled outside without hesitation as soon as she was starting to flail her arms. ‘Can’t we switch jobs?’ Anastasia mentally pleaded, knowing well the answer. 

“While you do need someone to spar with, I don’t think Sir Cecil would appreciate you slacking off during work.” 

A frustrated sigh came out of Nastya’s mouth. “Thanks for that, but why are you here?” 

“I’m taking a break, and I wanted to see if you needed help.” 

“Sitting all day must be very tiring, huh?” The phrase ‘don’t be rude’ eternally echoed through her head when Mara was present. “Again, thanks, but I’m done for now” And she was a happy it was still slightly past noon. 

‘Maybe I can practice a bit more now if I hurry.’ 

A silence fell among the two, lasting many long seconds. “I didn’t wish to say anything, but you’ve been training quite hard lately.” 

She didn’t realize she muttered that out loud. “Yeah, what about it?” 

“Is it because of those mercenaries?” The only response Mara received was a wordless stare. “Why?” 

“You have problem with that?” 

“They kill people for money.” 

“They are heroes, give them some respect!” 

“What was their commander’s name again?” She hummed with a tone of mockery. “Ah, yes. Zeke the Rodent Zero, no?” Her own chuckling almost distracted her from Nastya’s deadly leer. “I’m jesting, Nastya. You’d never allow me to forget their deeds. Never” 

“You don’t have some weaving to do?” Her voice grumbled. 

Calming her breath, she still beamed. “Yes, yes. I’ll leave.” Before Mara crossed through the door, she looked over her shoulder, keeping her grin. “If you excuse me.” 

Nastya pinched the bridge of her nose. It was just teasing, her laughs gave it away immediately. There was no need to be upset. 

A noise coming from the entrance, however, snapped her out of any further thought. 

The roosters were back. 

‘Damn it!’ 

\--------------------

She double-checked thoroughly as she did every evening: well fed, with fresh water, clean and safe. With one last glance at the sleeping birds, she breathed out.

Another day of work finished. 

A warm dinner and hut awaited for her. Yawns were already forming on her throat as the image of a nice broth appeared in her imagination. 

But the weight on her eyelids was lifted when she heard someone screaming. 

Her tracks were stopped when she witnessed a fire expanding on a house. 

And she gulped at the sight of men of savage appearance, with weapons of sinister glint. 

Bandits. 

Nastya felt her blood turning cold. 

She ran inside her home and made her way to her shield and lance, both waiting against the wall. Looking sideways but never stopping, she saw Mara standing up from the wooden loom. 

“Stay here.” She managed to say before storming off. 

No breastplate, no helmet, no gauntlets, no pauldrons. Time was precious and those barbarians wouldn’t wait to kill the townspeople. Outside, the people she knew were scared, running towards their homes for at least a sliver of protection available for them. 

But the moment when she saw a man trying to setting her neighbor’s hut in fire, after she saw her hiding, she lunged without care. 

Her blade pierced through his back without much resistance. She heard his choked groan, with a pain that made her close her eyes as she pulled out her weapon. 

Trying to ignore the gurgling, Nastya looked around her and gasped at the sight of a scoundrel drawing near, armed with a sword. 

A slash was blocked by her shield, then bashing it to break contact, thrusting her lance. He dodged, she missed his body. Her target changed, and hit his knee with the pole in a swift motion. 

He let out a short yell when he knelt, thus giving her the opportunity. Her shield was shoved against him, knocking him down with the sound of his sword dropping. 

Her teeth gritted when her blade finally broke through his neck. 

Inhaling and exhaling, sweating already, she glanced at her surroundings. A couple of houses in flames, screams and the essence of strife. 

She barely had time to see another man charging at her. 

Her reaction was to raise her lance to deflect, an error she realized instantly. 

His axe’s strike sent her to the dirt beneath and her weapon far from reach. 

Her hands were gripping the green grass under her, while the barbarian gave her a wicked smile. He lifted his axe and she felt her body shiver, ready for the impact. 

A painful screech rang in her ears. It came from the brute, who elbowed something, or someone, behind him. 

Her breathing came to a halt when Mara fell to the ground. 

Her respiration started again, in the form of a cry, when an arrow landed on the bandit’s skull. 

Her eyes wandered over the barbarian, lying inert on the soil, but she remembered her friend in pain. Nastya still couldn’t stand up properly, crawling to where she was. “Mara! Are you all right?” 

She was clenching her side, and almost whispering she said “I will live.” In spite her of fading pain, Mara managed to chuckle. “I see you’re still in one piece.” 

A smile betrayed Nastya’s face. “Let me help.” She took her arm and, as both stood up, the brigands ran past them into the woods they came from. 

They sounded angry, but frightened. 

“Are you two hurt?” They heard a woman coming closer, accompanied by the sound of a horse’s neigh from behind. 

‘She is…’ The view of that scarlet hair and pristine armor almost makes Nastya lose her voice. It wasn’t the first time Nastya saw her, with a silver axe at hand, and she sure hoped it wouldn’t be the last. She responded with a weak stutter. “Yes- I mean, we’re fine. Thank you” 

Someone from afar called for the mounted lady’s name, and as soon as she arrived she was gone to assist them. Nastya observed how they were trying to extinguish the many fires across the village. She would recognize those persons anywhere, in day or night. 

“Serves them right,” Mara spat, “it’s a shame the rest got away.” 

She looked at her friend, now crouching over the corpse of the bandit. It was then when she saw what she believed to be the reason behind that shriek: the handle of a knife stuck on his back. 

Nastya hissed as her body cringed when Mara tugged the blade out of the flesh in a single, forceful motion. Turning around, with her eyes boring on their hut of cobblestone and wood, she beckoned her. “Come Nastya, I will make dinner.” 

And thus, she entered, with the knife soaked in crimson. 

She stumbled with her lance on her way to follow her friend. Among the traces of blood, she saw the reflection of her shame on the shining metal. 

Her gaze shifted to the mercenaries that were already leaving, under the cold veil of night. Their presence always made her heart burn with passion, but tonight, a feeling of humiliation loomed above her. 

She failed, she fell, and she was, by any standards, dead. 

And they had witnessed her ineptitude. 

‘Pathetic.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, good lord, fighting scenes are hard to write. Or maybe it’s because it is the first time I do? Both probably. Second, I’m not entirely satisfied with this chapter, so it’s likely I‘ll edit this one too. And third, I’ll have to return to school, so the updates will be erratic and slower. So, just a heads-up for those that hate or like this fic. Thanks for reading!


End file.
